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“My money’s on Poseidon and his offspring,” said Hermes. “That fucker is always looking for power.”

Hermes hit on something Hades had also been thinking. The ophiotaurus could live on land, but it also thrived in water. Poseidon would jump at any chance to overthrow Zeus, but so would Theseus and Hera. Hades already knew the demigod and the Goddess of Marriage were working together, though he also suspected the God of the Sea fed Theseus’s desire to overthrow the Olympians. Whether he actually believed his son was capable was another matter.

Sometimes, Hades wondered who was orchestrating the game and who was just playing it, but he knew one thing: if he could become the mastermind, he would.

“We cannot let it take refuge in the sea,” Hades said.

It would be in his brother’s territory and virtually unreachable. Even if Hades were to offer a bargain, Poseidon would not give up such a weapon.

“Then we are wasting precious time talking when we should be hunting,” said Dionysus.

“The issue, Dionysus, is where to begin,” said Hades, looking at the god. “Unless you have information the rest of us do not.”

Dionysus did not speak.

“We must be careful in our inquiries,” said Ilias. “Word has already spread among the market. Everyone within those channels will expect your involvement.”

And they were right to, though Hades knew that would not be a deterrent. In the seedy world of the black market, few feared his wrath, though he hardly saw that as an insult. It was hard to fear death when faced with it every day. Still, it meant that he would be locked in a competition to locate perhaps one of the greatest weapons ever created against the gods.

“Then perhaps my maenads should make the inquiries,” Dionysus suggested, but Hades ignored him and looked at Ilias.

“Put Ptolemeos on the case, but watch him. I trust no one in this matter.”

“Even me, apparently,” Dionysus said.

Hades returned his gaze to the God of Wine. “Let’s not pretend you haven’t already sent your assassins to scout. You don’t wait for permission; you take it.”

Dionysus pursed his lips and looked away. Hades could not tell if he was amused or annoyed.

“And what is to be done with it when it is found?” asked Zofie. “Will you kill it?”

Hades did not respond because he did not know the answer to her question. He supposed it depended on what the oracle had to say about the creature’s powers, though he doubted anyone else searching for the ophiotaurus would think twice about whether the prophecy still rang true.

That creature had a bounty on its head and a ticking clock on its heart.

“You’re all dismissed,” Hades said.

He was ready to be back in the Underworld with Persephone. It was where he should have been this entire night, curled around her warm body in the aftermath of their lovemaking. It made him irate that he had not been able to remain at her side. Even on the night of their engagement, he had been away while she slept, gathering intel on the ophiotaurus and attempting to discover where Demeter had taken refuge.

He tried not to think of this as an omen for what was to come, but he knew a battle lay ahead. He had always known it would not be easy to make Persephone his wife, given that her mother was one of his most vocal critics. And while the snow swirling outside in the middle of summer concerned him, he was more worried about Zeus.

His brother liked control, especially where other gods were concerned, and that included a say in who they married.

Hades clenched his fist at the thought.

He would marry Persephone no matter the consequences, because in the end, a life without her was not a life at all.

CHAPTER II

DIONYSUS

Dionysus left Nevernight and returned to Bakkheia, to the suite where he usually stayed despite having an estate of his own on the outskirts of Thebes. It was not that he found one place more comfortable than the other—he found no place particularly comfortable—it was that he could not handle the quiet of his home. Peace did not calm him; it only gave rise to louder, more incessant thoughts.

Even now, he was not completely free of them—of the endless voice in his mind that told him he had not done enough, that he was not enough. But at least here he could drown it out with the noise, the revelry, themadness.

He looked on it all now from the quiet of his suite, which had been abandoned by the usual carousers while he had answered the summons to Nevernight. Despite the early morning hour, his club teemed. Music vibrated his very soul and made his heart stutter in his chest. Laserlights cut through the darkness, highlighting sweaty and flushed faces, illuminating acquaintances and lovers locked in carnal embraces.

The musty scent of sweat mixed with the noxious odor of drugs seeped through the vents and burned his nose.